


A Love Like This

by WesternScribe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Drama, F/M, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, a little plot, postpartum sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WesternScribe/pseuds/WesternScribe
Summary: As death marches on the Wall, the crown and her adversaries have decided to put their differences aside and meet in King's Landing to discuss a formal alliance. In it's backdrop, Brienne welcomes a child.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 16
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

Brienne hadn't seen many babes in her life.

There were her sisters, but they died when she was young, and she didn't remember them very much. She couldn't even recall their faces.

An aunt had a meaty pink mound of boy in her tenth year, though she saw him but once before they sailed back to their manor and their lands.

There were women on her travels whom she passed, carrying great sacks of babe strapped to their backs with cloths and ties as they worked about their villages. The infants were always rather precious things; small and far too fragile to be held by sword wielding hands, her hands, and always a strange, sharp terror gripped her at the very thought, but as the nurse placed Brienne's own meaty, pink mound of boy in her arms, there was no fear. There was only awe.

He was a beautiful babe, and uncommonly so. He wore the peaceful, sleeping expression of a saint at rest and his smooth skin did not blotch as hers did. The fine, barely visible hair upon his scalp cast his head in a golden, heavenly glow, and the white gold of his eyelashes was rich and full. He was a large, plump thing, with elbows and cheeks that dimpled. His skin was softer than a bird's feathers and he smelled faintly of lavender, and ivory soapstone, and herself.

_He's a perfect child. I knew he'd be._

When looking at him, the world around her faded away. She had never known a love like this before. It was stronger than how she felt for her father and Pod, Sansa and Jon, all her friends at Winterfell, even Jaime. No one compared to this child. Her heart was his completely.

 _What shall I call you, little one?_ She touched one fleshy cheek with her thumb and rubbed gentle circles across it.

 _Surely not Galladon. A fine name for any, and a better one for you, but you'd an uncle named Galladon and it would give bad favor to name those after the dead. Natheless, I rather fancy Renly._ He was kind and honorable. A king of kings. _But you're not a king, are you little one? No. You're a lion._

"I was told you birthed a son, my lady." Brienne's eyes found his with the last of his words. The room was empty, as it had not been moments before.

"Yes, my lord. A fine son," she couldn't help her smile as she looked at her boy again, "and beautiful... as beautiful as his father."

Brienne clamped her mouth shut, regretting the compliment.

It was too forward a comment, even now, and her nerves hummed as a small voice in the back of her mind said terribly logical things about the possibility of rejection, though he hadn't given her cause to doubt his affections in all these long months. She'd never remarked on his beauty before, and somehow, saying those words felt as though it may break the spell of their love. She was afraid they may repair his eyes and allow him to see her as she truly was. Hopelessly ugly. Not fit to love him or his children.

Brienne told that voice to hush.

He didn’t seem to notice and when she looked at him again, she knew it was wrong. He crossed the small room quickly, eyes burning, hair wild from hard riding, face slightly wind chaffed.

_He's not beautiful._

Beautiful and handsome were words that seemed insufficient when applied to Jaime Lannister. He was much more, sin made man if you will, and the sublimity of his physical form was such as that of a demon, or devil, sent to lure herself and all other women he crossed away from that which was holy. He was exquisite.

Jaime reached her bed in moments and bent to kiss her. His hand caressed her ruined cheek while her tongue darted across his chapped lips. He smiled against her before opening his mouth and deepening the embrace. Jaime tasted vaguely of smokiness, and cloves, and ginger beer. When they broke apart, he kissed her lips again, but chastely, closed mouthed, and rested his forehead against her own.

His sigh tickled her chin. "I am late."

Brienne smiled as he nuzzled her cheek. "You're here, tardiness is no issue."

He breathed a laughed and brushed his lips across her ruined cheekbone, stopping near her ear. "Is that so?" Her nod was enough to prompt another gust of laughter. "All the same, I should have been here, Brienne, with you. I was to hold your hand whilst you cursed me." He kissed her ear. "And tell you sweet words as you cried in pain."

"Jaime, I-," he backed away slightly and his expression made her lose her words. Brows drawn, eyes soft, his face was open, such as it has never been. _Maybe he does love me_. "You're here now," she said again, "and the babe is hale and hearty. There is no woe that can slight me in this moment."

His smile turned pernicious. His eyes darkened and she felt as though her heart might burst. He sat on the feather bed and regarded the child. "A son." He smirked, brows rising in amusement. "What shall you call this boy, Brienne?"

"I... I have yet to decide."

She looked away. It was the father's job to name children, males especially. Brienne hadn't thought of a single name in earnest. Galladon _, no._ Renly, _no._ Selwyn _, definitely not._ He could be a Duncan and be more noble than any knight living. Or perhaps Durran. He could win the love of a goddess and live a thousand years. Or he could be Mychel, or Arryak, or Rennoir, or Steavyn, or Stainfurd _,_ or _Jaime..._

Jaime was a lovely name and the more she watched him watch their babe, the lovelier the name became.

She opened her mouth when he spoke. "The boy's a lion, true enough. He has the look as well as the blood. What say you to a lion's name?"

Brienne was taken aback. "A, a... a Lannister name, you mean?"

He glared at her, rankled eyes and pursed lips. "Is not he a Lannister babe?"

His words pricked something foul within her. "He is my child...," but after a moment, "and also yours, ser."

Jaime smirked. "A child we made together. A son with my blood who shall have my name."

She hadn't expected such a declaration. "Jaime, we are not wed..."

He made a queer face. "You saw my proposal as humorous before." His voice was strange.

 _He couldn't be serious_ , but as she watched his eyes, they began to cloud with hurt as well as anger.

"You weren't honest. You jested. You wouldn't marry-"

"Do not presume to tell me what I will and won't do. My actions are mine own."

"Jaime,"

"Jaime nothing. The boy is a Lannister. Moreover, I've decided upon a rather perfect name for the child of the mother of Tarth." His smile was sharp. "Tymaios. It means 'he of highest honor."

"Tymaios." It was but a breath. Gingerly, she stroked a thumb across one of the babe's plump cheeks. Jaime placed his hand upon the boy’s head and looked into her eyes again.

"Tymaios Lannister. What say you to that, Brienne?"

"Jaime, I. How can he possibly be a Lannister? What of the queen?" It wasn't a thing she'd willingly admit, but the threat of his sister's wrath plagued the back of her mind these last past moons. She was a danger to her boy.

"What of the queen indeed." His eyes narrowed and his voice regained its strange tone. He looked at the scratches along the wooden floor, frowning. "My sister has more pressing matters to attend than seeing which new child is named what. We're at war, if you recall. With the living and the dead, or so your Starks would have us believe. I can assure you," he touched the boy's cheek with his thumb, "she is more interested in this parley. The dragon children, the north, it's enough. Tyrion says they have irrefutable evidence as to why we should ally our forces."

"They do-," she began, " _we_ do." She corrected. "Death marches on the wall. I've seen it."

"I am aware," he nodded, trailing his fingers along Tymaios' arm, a whisper against his skin. "I believe you. She's the one you have to convince."

Brienne didn't like his tone. "Is there nothing you can do? I'm sure she'll listen to-"

Jaime sighed and as he met her eyes, the image of her father's disapproving gaze came to mind. "I'm not a child," she said angrily. "Don't try to make your family's dysfunction a reason to patronize me."

He remained calm. "You know, he can understand when you're upset. It'll make him cry."

"Do. Not. Patronize. Me."

He smiled sweetly. "You make it hard not to. And in answer to your question, you don't know my sister. I can only say, only do so much."

"That's more than anyone else can-"

"It won't be enough."

Brienne gasped. "How do you know?"

"Because I know her... though she's changed. She'll listen and agree and make promises sure, but she won't send her army a thousand miles away from King’s Landing."

"Are you certain?"

"No, she may surprise me." His right nostril twitched as he smirked. "The meeting isn't for three days. Let us leave such talk for then."

Brienne didn't want to wait for the Dragon Pit to plan, she'd much rather do it now, but then, as if by some design, Tymaios began to wail and she gave him her breasts.

Her nipples were large, dark and raw, and the flesh around them was extremely sensitive. His tiny mouth didn't latch on properly at first, she had to coax him like the nursemaid said. When his small hands clamped onto her breast, fingers squeezing, it was almost too much to bear.

She counted to one hundred slowly, breathing deeply, through clenched teeth the entire time.

Jaime watched in silence. At number forty-seven, she glanced his way. He'd a dark look in his eye that she recognized as lust. His mouth was open slightly. His hand was white knuckled and fisted tightly into the wool quilt beside him.

_Sixty-five._

"You, you can't," she grunted, "we can't be together tonight, Jaime." The babe sucked harder and she gasped. "The maester said we must wait."

_Eighty-eight._

"The maester's an old cunt. I'll send for another." He rubbed her forearm. "I'm sure his methods are obsolete anyway."

"No," she removed Tymaios from her breast and sat him upright upon her lap. Alternating between rubbing and patting his back, Brienne administered enough pressure to prod him into a loud belch.

She smiled and spoke softly to her boy. "Well done."

Afterward, she lay him upon her chest and rocked, bouncing her leg against the floor until he fell asleep.

"I quite like Maester Follett, thank you."

"Of course, you do."

A rap upon the door demanded their attention.

She covered herself and nodded to Jaime before he spoke.

"Enter."

Peck came in a fluster. "My lord. My uh, Lady Brienne," he smiled in her direction without looking. "My lord, you're needed at the Mud Gate."

"The Mud Gate? At this hour? You do remember me telling you not to disturb me tonight."

"Yes, my lord," his head bobbed quickly, gaze upon the floor, "I told as much to the sellsword-"

"Spit it out lad, who's dying to see me?"

"Your brother, my lord."

Jaime exhaled, a sharp, annoyed sound. He turned to her, placed his hand upon the babe’s back. "I suppose I should go." He grabbed her hand and kissed the skin just below her knuckles. "I'll return shortly."

"Alright."

"I'll bring another maester with me, so take care to rest now. You won’t get much later."

She rolled her eyes and he laughed as he walked out the door. Jaime didn't come back that night, or the next two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece to Fifty and Four Hundred Men, The Prisoner's Dilemma, and Snow on the Bluff. I'll put them all in order as a series eventually. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Brienne was leaving again, and Jamie knew he would miss her terribly.

She insisted upon staying in a stale room above a grotty tavern, far too near Flea Bottom for his liking. Her reason being that her child would be safe here- hidden in the muck of impoverishment. He looked at the splintering wood of the mildewed walls and frowned.

She and the babe would have been outside the city gates, in some frigid, muddy tent, alongside the other six thousand Northmen, if not for Jaime's intervention.

It took a disgustingly disagreeable amount of cajoling, but eventually she consented to staying with him for a time, however short that may be.

He sat on an unstable wooden chair and watched Brienne feed the child. Their child. Tymaios.

Her face flickered with discomfort every few moments. There was something wrong with the boy it seemed. He couldn't nurse properly. Jaime thought it rather curious, for he had never heard of such a thing, but soon his curiosity ebbed. Soon, the boy suckled merrily, and Brienne stroked a finger against the child's cheek, humming contently. Blissfully.

It was such an intimate moment, a ritual as old as the gods, and for an instant Jaime thought of his own mother. It seemed ages since last she ran through his mind, all golden curls and fiery disposition. _Would that she had lived..._

Feeling his stare no doubt, Brienne met his gaze. Her blue eyes were large and full of love.

That swimming, shimmering blue made him grin like a fool. She smiled back, horse-toothed and brilliant, and in that moment, he was again reminded that he may very well be in love with the girl. It was all completely ridiculous.

 _Mayhaps I shall turn her away, the next time she finds me_. For his love always ended horrendously. He likes to think that he would, but he knows he won't.

"Perchance, you can stay awhile longer, my lady."

Her smile faltered and her eyebrows drew together. "You know I can't, ser. My lady needs me."

Jaime sighed, pinching his lips.

He was well and truly sick of the bloody Starks. Their war against the dead be damned. He wanted Brienne for a few days, a week at least, but he knew childbirth would keep her for no more than a moment. _The damnable stubborn woman._ She was still angry he asked her not to attend the parley. _All the good that did._

"How soon can we expect you?" She wouldn't acknowledge his glare, irritating him further. "And will you bring your entire army or only a portion?"

She feigned such interest in memorizing the curvature of the babe's features until he said-

"Her Grace would have us depart with the coming sennight."

Her eyes were alight. "This is good." She grasped his hand. "Oh Jaime, you're doing the right thing."

He snorted and bit back the laugh threatening his lips.

 _The right thing_. He wondered what result his good intentions would bring henceforth. Last time, he started a war. The time before that, he ended one. Mayhaps they'll all die, and he won't have to justify his doing of the right thing.

"You don't always have to be cynical." She eyed him as a mother would a child, as though she knew his thoughts.

"Ah Brienne, but I do. Any other action would be against mine house."

She rolled her eyes and moved Tymaios to her other breast. The boy drank his fill of the first teat and showed naught but enthusiasm for the second. He seemed visibly larger now than he did just after birth, and he was the largest babe Jaime had ever seen come straight from a woman, albeit he lacked in that regard. Though he'd only seen Cersei's brood, he was certain the boy was abnormally large, like his mother.

Jaime chuckled as the babe grasped his mother's breast with renewed vigor. He'd seen the babe feed four times now and each time the child behaved as though he would die were he not to drain her breasts dry.

"He'll be a giant, that one."

 _If he lived that long_. If they could defeat the army of grumpkins and snarks and every other thing Jaime didn't believe, but now knew to be true. _Such a strange time this son was born to._

"The better to be a knight." Brienne smiled through her unease.

The more he watched the boy, the more Jaime knew he would live to be that giant of a man. It made him proud, if only a little. He had two children still drawing breath and Jaime intended to keep it that way.

When the babe finished, Brienne tapped his back until a rather loud belch came forth, _'The nurse showed me the best way to do it'_ , and as she stood up, with the child in her arms, small head against her chest, she began to rock. It should have been awkward, would have been awkward, but she took to it as effortlessly as she did with the blade.

Brienne laid Tymaios upon her bed, free of furs and coverlets, and went to undress behind the folding screen in the corner, near the window.

_You've my child, you silly girl. I've seen all of you._

She stepped around the room on silent feet and made her way to the bath by the hearth. She held her breasts, covering them as she moved, the fat around the sides jiggling. Curious she didn't hide the hair over her cunt.

Steam swirled from the water of the metal tub in misting streams, and as she sank into the bath, a low moan escaped her lips.

The sound, her poorly covered breasts, her free, hairy cunt, were all frustrating Jaime. He tried to take her the previous night but was refused.

Her body had to heal, some nonsense the idiot maester told her, and she refused him. He told her she was being stupid and left angry, seething really, feeling coiled tight enough to snap into a thousand shards.

Entirely sure she would deny him again, Jaime decided he would try anyway. He could be convincing when he wanted to. And now he wanted nothing more.

Jaime rose from his chair and sat on the floor bedside her tub. Seeing her nakedness immersed in water did little to soothe his rapidly hardening cock, but he ignored it for the time being.

Brienne's eyes were closed, head laying against the edge of the tub. It was an old tub, made of cheap, dented metal, and scarcely long enough for her to fit. She should be in one of the large, gold ones in the Keep, bathing in cream and flower petals; or at the very least, in the bath house of one of the more prestigious manors along Visenya's Hill.

This was undignified and unacceptable. She had his child, by the Seven. The fact that he had to hide her here annoyed him all over again.

She hummed and turned her head toward him. A lazy smile spread across her features. "You aren't trying to seduce me, ser? I fear I've informed you against such behavior already."

Jaime smirked. He dipped his hand into the water and ran his fingers up the length of her body: her thigh, her stomach- fleshy and weak since the birth, stopping at her right breast and nipple.

He rubbed his thumb against the bud and felt it perk beneath his touch. When she opened her eyes, he could see the hunger there. He wasn't alone in this he knew. The continent, honorable Lady of Tarth always wanted him.

Jaime smiled and exhaled. He leaned closer to her, a hair’s breadth from her face, and whispered in her ear. "What does that old man know anyway?"

She turned to look at him, to argue, but his mouth was upon hers before she could protest.

She didn't fight him, she never would, and before long, his tunic was wet with the water from her bath. She kissed him like she was starving, and Jaime moved about her lips, about her mouth as though she would be his last meal on earth.

He danced with her tongue for a moment or two before he pulled backed, holding her chin with his fingers. Resting his forehead upon hers, he looked into her eyes.

"I don't care what that maester says. I need you tonight Brienne."

He sighed against her mouth and placed a kiss upon her plump lips before pulling her from the tub. She held his hand and walked with him to the fur rug before the bed. Holding his gaze, she sank to the floor. The water from her bath beaded down her body. Her hair was dry and wild from their kiss. Her plump lips were even more plump. It bewitched him. If he didn't have her now, Jamie knew he'd roar in anguish.

He fell to his knees and pulled her legs up, causing her to fall onto her back and forearms with a _thump_. Not a chivalrous action, but he didn't care. She brought this upon herself.

His hand and stump traced her waist whilst his eyes raked down her nakedness, ready to devour.

Leaning over, he kissed her lips, her chin, the curve of her jaw, her neck. Nipping, sucking, teasing. Her moans filled his ears, and he was ready to burst through his breeches.

When he paused to take off his wet tunic, she helped him pull the fabric up and over his head. Her hands moved to his trousers before his own. Jaime hoped they might. He was very appreciative of her enthusiasm. She was nearly as impatient as he was.

He hissed when her palm grazed his aching cock.

"Careful." He mumbled, kissing her again, taking care to nip and tug her lower lip. In his distraction, she managed to move his trousers down his cock, his arse, until it bunched against his knees and he had to stand to free himself from the fabric.

She rose too, kneeling, and grasped his cock firmly.

"Brienne..." her name was a warning on his lips.

She looked at him, uncertain. That won't do. She must be confident. _Show her, you fool._

Holding the side of her face, he brushed her cheek. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She frowned for a moment and looked off to the side, at the fire cracking the logs in the hearth. "You always kiss me... _there_ , I thought it only fair if I returned the favor."

His eyes crinkled from her innocence. He leaned over and kissed her sweetly.

"You're a fair maiden indeed, to be so generous."

She smirked. Her timidity melted away, leaving a lovely boldness in its stead.

"It can't be that difficult." She tugged him roughly, pulling along the shaft, swiping her thumb across the head.

He bit the inside of his cheek. "No- not _too_ difficult. I'll, I'll coach you... if you need."

"You're a poor instructor." She worried the head again. His nostrils flared. Some of his seed leaked onto her thumb. Jaime was panting now, like a most pathetic animal. "You talk too much."

She took the tip of him into her wonderful mouth and all thought left him.

Her palm circled the base of the shaft as she drew further against him, as she stroked the hilt. Her tongue along the underside of his cock as one of her palms fondled his balls. He feared might come. She worked him more, prompting his fingers to clump into her hair as her head bobbed back and forth.

It required all his strength, but somehow, he managed to pry her away from his cock. Before she went, she swiped her tongue along the tip and kissed the pulsing head. Her lips were glossy with his essence as she drew back, sitting upon her legs.

The sight alone threatened to overwhelm him. Jaime knew he needed to be buried in her right then, right there, or he'd lose himself when next she touched him.

He fell to his knees and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue. She moaned and he moved them back to the floor.

Jaime kissed her neck, her breasts, suckling her nipples much like that sleeping child had, and marveled in satisfaction when he tasted her mother's milk.

It was sweet, creamy, a rich honied liquid as it had been previous. He knew if he had only that to sustain him for the rest of his life, he'd die a happy man.

Brienne moaned, running her fingers through his hair.

"Jaime," she breathed. "Jamie don't... drink it all... Tymaios."

Jaime sighed, vexed, but broke away. He supposed if he were to relinquish the pleasure of her milk to anyone, it should be to Tymaios. It aggravated him none the less.

Moving his way down her body, Jaime kissed her scarred navel, licking the skin just below it. He rubbed his lips, his nose through the hair above her pelvis, as he made his way to her cunt, and hummed in delight as he smelled her arousal. 

Splaying his palm along her inner thigh, his tongue ran from the bottom of her cunt to the nub at its tip in slow, lazy movements.

She froze, leg in the air, shaking involuntarily, as he sucked her clitoris. Each swirl of his tongue, each graze of his teeth, every shift in pressure, elicited a different sound from her lips. It was rather maddening. Jaime stroked himself to ease some of the tension.

He put one finger through the lips of her cunt to test her readiness but pulled out in confusion.

She was drier than normal, which gave him pause. By all rights, the sounds coming from her were sign enough of her arousal. Raising his head from his task, Jaime stared at her. Her eyes were scrunched shut and she whined with his retreat.

"You're not nearly as wet as you should be, my lady."

"Wh-.. I... Jaime!" The desperation in her face made him smile.

"I suppose it's from the birth." _That's the only thing that makes sense anyhow_. Jaime rotated his thumb into her clitoris slowly, and she gasped and groaned as he watched each wave of pleasure crash upon her. "No matter. I shall make sure you're nice and ready... even if your body is being more disagreeable than your mind."

She moaned again and ground her pelvis into his hand.

Savoring her cunt again, Jaime gave two slow laps, the way she liked it, from arse to nub, and then drove his tongue into her walls.

She was warm, tight around his tongue and he moaned against her sex, kissing the lips of her cunt, dancing his tongue about it. He moved his tongue up slightly and placed a finger beneath it. He fucked her with his finger, with his tongue for a time until she came into his mouth.

"Jaime. Jaime." She mewled. He kissed her mouth then and positioned himself at the opening of her moist slit. Brienne looked at him through her perplexity. "The maester- he said I might bleed."

He paused.

It would be strange for her to die from the woman's battle. And yet, the child was here, she was healthy, strong, and Jaime would rather chop his other hand off and toss it into the bloody hearth before stopping now. She wouldn't bleed.

Brienne didn't have a woman's gentle disposition. She would be fine, she would-

She cooed and arched into him. He held himself above her, propped upon his elbows, and grasped his cock. Jamie rubbed its head against the swollen nub of her clitoris. The sound Brienne made was lost between a moan and a cry. He couldn't stop now.

Jaime kissed her lips and, with a voice as tender as honey said, "Fear not, I shall be gentle."

He repositioned, pushed in slightly, barely past the tip and retreated. He moved again, halfway this time, and swallowed her gasp with a kiss. _Oh, she feels marvelous_. Another thrust, cut short after a little too much resistance. She was tight, which was lovely, but somehow fragile. Jaime sucked her nipples, rubbed her clitoris to make her more accommodating and pushed back in. The resistance was gone. She took him in completely.

He stayed there for a moment, until he felt a new wave of moisture flow through her, easing their friction. She gazed at him with her big blue eyes and he felt as comfortable as time.

Jaime moved slowly, rotating his hips, looking into her eyes all the while. He kissed her here and there but knew he couldn't keep it up for long. He reached between them and rubbed her clitoris. Brienne brought her legs up higher, crossing them about his back, meeting his thrusts with magnificent exuberance.

The _slap, slap, slapping_ of their bodies pleased him.

She started chanting his name, such a lovely chant, as he moved faster, deeper into her. Jaime kissed her lips before burying his face into her neck, willing her to come before he did.

Her final cry of pleasure was sharp. It rang into his ear when she spasmed, just as he grunted and pumped his spilling seed deep inside her.

He breathed heavily into her mouth whilst she moaned his name against his lips. He drew a confession of love from her before she submitted to fatigue. Jaime wondered if Brienne would remember it once she remembered herself. He followed her into that abandonment not a moment later.

They stayed like that for a time, and Jaime supposed the valley between Brienne's breasts was one of those places he'd never tire of. Her heartbeat was a strong, ceaseless _thump_ against his ear, and the rise and fall of her chest upon his cheek could lull him into a type of sinful bliss. He stayed there until her sweaty skin cooled and her breathing steadied. Though, she began to squirm under him after a time.

"Um, Jaime?" Her voice was soothing.

"Hmm?" He didn't open his eyes.

"Are you going to move? I needs clean myself whilst the babe sleeps. He may wake soon and I'm still sticky."

Jaime huffed and rose his head from her chest. Catching her eyes, her lovely eyes, he smiled wickedly.

"Oh, that-"

He kissed her chest where his head lay, moved to where the end of her ribcage met her thick waist. He kissed her soft navel. He kissed just above the hair at the juncture of her thighs.

"Jaime, I have to-"

He kissed her clitoris, cutting her speech, making her inhale sharply. Jaime grinned at her wide-eyed distress.

"Hush now." He spoke against her skin. "Not a moment ago you said you wished to be cleaned."

"That's not wh-"

He silenced her with one slow run of his tongue: from the end of her cunt to the nub of her clitoris. It made her squirm and grunt rather amusingly.

He received a mouth full of himself; tart, salty, and cold compared to the sweet, floral even, warmth of her growing arousal. He cleaned her thighs quickly, eager to return to her cunt and her moans.

By the time she was free of his seed, he formed a nice rhythm of movement against her. Her hands were on his head, fingers in his hair, and she pleaded with him.

"Please Jaime... please...," she cooed.

His cock, hard again, twitched at her cries. Jaime rose his mouth from her slit, making her whine.

"Please what, my lady?" He chuckled at her sudden despair. Eyes blazing blue fire, Brienne looked murderous. "You have to articulate your desire."

"Jaime!" She pouted.

"Shall I continue?" He asked with innocent curiosity.

Her big blue eyes closed, and she flushed. She swallowed- _her pride? Some of her perpetual embarrassment?_ \- and spoke, a smile ghosting across her buxom lips. "Yes, please- con, continue."

 _When exactly did the gauche actions of this cumbersome girl become endearing to you, Lannister_? It was difficult to say.

Jaime snorted, "As the lady wishes."

He fucked her well with his tongue and fingers and caused tears to spring from her eyes as she came.

Brienne kissed him once she caught her breath, and he prepared to soothe himself, _perhaps with her mouth_ , when the child wailed. A loud, piercing, pathetic cry that compelled Brienne to spring into action. She scrambled from beneath him and was at the bed before he could look up.

Jaime cursed. He was still hard, and she would ignore him now. _Damn that child_. Brienne sat upon the bed, babe at her breast, and met Jaime's eyes. She glanced down his body, seeing his erection, and gave an apologetic look.

He sighed again, irritated now. He should have pulled from her cunt when he came all those moons past. Then there would be no squalling lump of flesh to compete for her attention with.

Frowning, Jaime sat up and watched the girl and his child.

The boy ate with gusto, as always, whilst his tiny palms grabbed the fat of her breasts. Although Brienne's face contorted in discomfort, she seemed happy enough.

"I can find you a wet nurse. You appear to be in pain whilst feeding him." _And that would leave your milk all to myself_. The thought pleased him.

Brienne tried to smile through her unease. It resulted in a terribly ugly grimace. "I am not in pain, Jaime. I don't need a wet nurse." She tried to mask her features into some semblance of normality but failed miserably. All the same, she stroked her thumb against Tymaios's cheek and smiled. "He's perfect."

Jaime rolled his eyes. _Well, there goes that idea_. The madness had her now. His sister was quite the same way. No other woman could touch her babes. It was preposterous.

The bells of the sept rang in the distance, signifying Nocturns and midnight. He figured he could slip away now and return to his tower, sleep for six hours before waking to the sound of Peck knocking on the door of his bedchamber.

And yet, he did not rise. Brienne burped the babe, the belches grew louder every time, and returned him to the bed. Though his cock was no longer stiff, he was hopeful once he caught her eye, as she moved around the room. That hope died when she pulled her undertunic on and climbed onto the straw mattress next to the babe.

 _Damnation!_ Jaime thought _. Face it Lannister, you've been traded for a new model yet again. This boy will consume her time, just as Cersei's children had hers._

Jaime huffed and walked to the bed. It was cold, his bones felt old this night, and regardless of whether Brienne gave the child more of her time than himself, Jaime decided he wanted her skin pressed against his own, so long as he had the opportunity.

He slipped in behind her, pulled her waist to his with his left palm, aligned their knees, and curled into her. He kissed the back of her neck and buried his nose into her thin hair. Brienne placed her palm atop his, as it lay against her stomach. Jaime smiled.

"You love that boy."

He heard the smile in her voice. "You've noticed."

"Hmm," her warmth was making him drowsy. "You'll take him to Tarth, I presume."

"I will. Our boat leaves at midday. I shall return north close to the time your armies arrive."

"Hmmm." He shifted closer to her, making himself more comfortable. "Have you sent word to your father? Does he know you bring a child?"

"I-," she hesitated. "I have not."

Jaime chuckled. "Well, he's in for quite a shock. What will you tell him?"

He was suddenly very curious to know.

"I... suppose...," she spoke slowly, "I can, I..."

 _She hasn't a clue, the poor thing_. "You can say that you've met a crippled knight," he threaded their fingers, "whose heart you've stolen." She froze at his words. "Do you believe it would upset him to discover I am said knight?"

"I, I'm, I-" she stammered. "Jaime, what?"

He sighed, irritated. His breath caused goosebumps to rise upon her neck. "I asked if your lord father will wroth at the knowledge that you've carried the Kingslayer's child. Do open your ears, Brienne."

"I, I believe it will bring him no joy."

"Hmm," he snorted, "but it is done, so he must needs adjust. Will the child be safe there?" A silly question to voice, but in light of his own family and their deeds, it seemed appropriate.

"Of course, he will." A degree of anger slipped into her incredulous response.

"Alright." He nuzzled his nose against her shoulder and kissed the side of her neck. "Will you tell him of the crippled knight?"

She stiffened again.

After long moments of silence, Jaime took that for his answer. Her father could properly fuck himself for all Jaime cared. It was thanks to Jaime and his kingslaying, Lannister army, that the man was still lord of his dreadful little rock. He should be grateful Jamie loved his daughter.

Brienne said nothing more. She remained conscious of every move Jamie made. She lay as still as stone, as he swiped his palm along her thigh. Her neck flushed when he held her womb. She trembled as he kissed behind her earlobe.

"I'm sure you'll think of something you deem acceptable." He yawned into her neck. "You are a terrible liar after all."

Jamie held her close, held her tight, and fell asleep before she relaxed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the way they separated in SOS, I thought it would be funny to have Jaime constantly trying to keep her close while Brienne denies him and gallivants around doing her own thing.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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